Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
She moved to block his path. “No. He’s just trying to cover his ass.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. “I mean… he wants to make sure there are no hard feelings after our breakup.”
“Why would there be hard feelings?”
“Because men are weenies. Let’s eat; the pizza is getting cold.”
She sank back down on the couch and picked the first movie that came up on her DVR, unconcernedly eating her food as Calder resumed his seat. She was so distracted she didn’t realize what movie they were watching until she noticed it had Calder’s rapt attention.
Picking up the remote, she exited out of the movie, choosing another one.
“Why did you stop it?”
“Because I only watch that movie with other bitches, or men I’m going to fuck.”
“I’m not a bitch, so it leaves me out of that category. You don’t see yourself fucking me? I definitely see myself fucking you.”
“In your dreams.” She chewed on her pizza, turning on a comedy she had recorded.
She felt his eyes go to her breasts when she leaned over for her beer.
“It could be hot.”
“Do you know how many men have told me that? Oh, baby, it’s going to be so hot when I do you,” she mimicked in a low voice. “Damn, woman, that’s so hot.”
Calder laughed. “I was trying to be sexy, not lame.”
When he laughed, his tough façade lightened.
Her cynical heart started beating faster, reminding her of when she was nineteen and had first met him. She had thought the attraction between them was two-sided until he had stood her up to get lit and laid by another woman. It had hurt her that he had blown her off.
He was the type of man who made you feel feminine by just being around him. You couldn’t look at him without thinking what he would be like in the sack. His stormy grey eyes could carry you out to sea, and you wouldn’t even care if he carried you back at high tide.
She shook her head, drawing herself back to earth. Crazy Bitch had to make herself remember that the time they would be spending together wasn’t for hooking up; it was for money. She had no intention of letting him sweep her off her feet into choppy waters and leaving her stranded and at the mercy of a riptide.
Despite the comedy on the screen, her expression grew serious. “I’m not into one-liners you used to catch Candi and Demie. I don’t play games. I expect the men I go out with to do the same.”
His laughter died. “You don’t think a lot of me, do you?”
“I don’t think about you at all.”
10
“The sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. The spare bedroom is by the kitchen,” Crazy Bitch said as she came out of the bathroom after her shower, wearing her short blue robe that she had tied at her waist.
“You going to bed?”
“I’ve been up since six this morning, and I’ve been on my feet all day. I had to cut, dye, dry, and curl Sharon and Tilly Hines’s hair. They each tipped me a buck and told me I needed to go on a diet. So, yeah, I’m going to bed.”
She went into her bedroom, leaving Calder watching the ten-o’clock news. She threw her robe down on the bottom of her bed, looking around her room for her cat. Usually the manic feline would attack any male. Crazy Bitch corrected herself—anyone unwary to enter his—again she had to correct herself—her apartment. The hellcat was getting old. She was sure he was hiding underneath her bed and would come out when she went to sleep.
Turning off the bedside lamp, she yawned tiredly then, stretching out on her bed, listened to the soft music she had turned on.
Drifting off to the soothing sounds of a lonely violin, she sank deeper into sleep.
A loud yell had her bolting up in bed. Disoriented, she fell as she tried to get out of bed. Tangled in her sheet, she had to extricate herself from the covers before she could manage to get to her feet.
Hearing another yell, she ran to the bedroom door, flinging it open then running into the room she had told Calder to sleep in, to see him standing on his tumbled bed with a pillow in his hand.
“What are you—”
“Get back. There’s a snake in here!” he shouted.
“I don’t have snakes….” She carefully backed toward the door, peering around the upturned room.
“There!”
She jumped when he pointed at something black that moved underneath the bed.
She started laughing. “That’s not a snake. It’s Manson.”
“Manson?”
“My cat. Well, technically it’s Fat Louise’s, but she forgot to take him when she moved out.”
Red-faced, Calder jumped off the bed, then jumped back on it when a vicious claw raked his shin.